


Minyard Clothing Co.

by icyvanity



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Clothing Store, Andrew Aaron and Nicky own a clothing store, M/M, everyone else is still a fox
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icyvanity/pseuds/icyvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew Minyard is a co-owner of Minyard Clothing Co. He, his cousin Nicky, and his twin brother Aaron sell everything from exy paraphernalia to suits worth more than most electronics. It's an uneventful life until a man in need of a suit for a bachelor party wanders in, with eyes so blue they cut into Andrew and lies that stretch for miles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sober Best Men

**Author's Note:**

> I’m an assistant in this shop and you’ve spent the last hour trying to choose between this top and that top so fuck it I’m choosing for you au (requested by [andrcwsminyards](http://andrcwsminyards.tumblr.com/))

Days spent working at Minyard Clothing Co. were usually uneventful for Andrew Minyard. His cousin Nicky Hemmick often worked the floor, being better with customers than either twin. His brother Aaron alternated between cashier, customer service, and manager—keeping the store afloat with his otherwise useless math skills. Andrew preferred working the cash register or as security for the store.

Unfortunately, the day came when Aaron’s girlfriend had spring break from med school, and decided to stop into Columbia for a visit. Andrew ignored Katelyn’s existence entirely, but took Aaron’s shift anyway. However, it was nearing the end of the month, so Nicky was forced to take over Aaron’s job of doing paperwork and ordering stock for the store. That left Andrew to work the register, keep a look out for suspicious activity, and assist the customers with all of their clothing needs.

It had only been an hour, and Andrew had almost killed four customers. The store closed at nine, and it was barely past eleven. He wasn’t sure how Nicky did it.

Minyard Clothing Co. sold a large variety of clothing, from jerseys for the local exy team—the Palmetto State Foxes, always dressing their fans in an atrocious shade of orange—to formal attire. Andrew tried to stay away from the Fox craze, though he knew how to play the game from his childhood. Nicky claimed Andrew had the best taste in suits of the three of them, so he was fortunately able to escape the racks of orange and white jerseys.

There was a man in loose black clothes standing by some of their nicest suits. He had a dress shirt in each hand and was holding them up repeatedly to the suit in front of him. He was biting his lip and his brows were creased in concentration, as though he could will one of the shirts into being the better option.

Andrew heard Nicky come up behind him to settle next to him at the register. Nicky whistled lowly and Andrew leveled a glare at him. “He’s a looker,” Nicky said dreamily, ignoring Andrew’s expression.

“I’ll be sure to let Erik know,” Andrew said.

Nicky pouted, “No fair. I’m allowed to observe. It’s not like you weren’t thinking the same thing.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed further, but he refused to say anything. Nicky rolled his eyes, “I can cover the register for a few minutes if you want to go help him out. He sure looks like he needs it.”

Andrew looked back at the man, who had picked up two other shirts and was in the process of holding those up as well. He sighed, walking around the register and ignoring Nicky’s quiet cheer.

The man didn’t notice Andrew’s approach, even as he stopped right beside him. He jumped when Andrew spoke.

“Can I help you?”

The man’s wide blue eyes snapped to Andrew’s face as though trying to detect a threat. Andrew’s face was world-renowned at betraying nothing, though he wanted nothing more to get this infuriatingly attractive man out of his store.

Said man cleared his throat, holding the shirts up between them. “I have a bachelor party to go to. Well, technically I’m in charge of it—I’m the best man—but I’ve had a lot of help. Allison—that’s the real mastermind behind this party—told me to get an outfit for the party, but I’m shit at picking out clothes. What do you think?”

He didn’t seem like the kind to ramble, but he looked at Andrew through his eyelashes, a plea in those impossibly blue eyes, and Andrew sighed again. The two shirts he was holding were bad colors to match with the black suit, so Andrew reached out for them. He gave them up easily, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Andrew put the shirts back on their respective racks, noting their sizes before walking towards another. He didn’t expect the man to follow him, but he heard footsteps behind him anyway. Andrew picked up black shirt with silver detailing, handing it to the man.

“Go try this on with that suit. We can tailor it if it doesn’t fit right,” Andrew said, nodding towards the fitting room at the back of the store.

“Even if the party is tonight?” The man asked, fidgeting with the shirt nervously.

“If you don’t mind paying extra.”

He shook his head, “I don’t.”

Andrew watched as he grabbed the suit and made his way over to the fitting room. Andrew hesitated a moment before walking back to Nicky, who was looking at him with a grin.

“Stop,” he said, before Nicky could even speak.

“You never help our customers,” Nicky said, ignoring him again. “Aaron and I made a bet that we wouldn’t have customers if you were left to your own devices.”

“Are you forgetting who opened this damn store, Nicky?”

Nicky shrugged, “We helped.”

Andrew rang up the few customers in line, pointedly not looking back towards the fitting room. When the last woman left, he spared a glance; there was a large mirror just outside, and the man was standing in front of it, pulling at his sleeves. He looked good.

Andrew padded back to him, standing behind him; he stared at their reflections.

“Looks like you won’t need it tailored,” he said.

The man met his eyes in the mirror, worry still reflected in his own. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, “It looks good on you.”

There was a hint of a smile on the other man’s face. He ducked back into the dressing room, and Andrew headed back to the register. Nicky was smirking at him, so Andrew shoved him back towards the office. Soon enough, the man with the blue eyes was at the register, watching Andrew as he rang up the man in front of him.

The total for the suit and the shirt wasn’t cheap—they didn’t settle for selling low-quality clothes. But the man fished out pristine hundreds from his wallet and passed them over. Andrew was suspicious of the money, but took it.

“Thank you,” the man said, glancing at Andrew’s nametag with those eyes, “ _Andrew_.”

* * *

Andrew didn’t expect to see the man again. His clothes suggested that he frequently shopped in the clearance section of Target, not stand-alone stores with expensive clothes, despite the money he carried. Andrew felt as though he could still see the man’s eyes—the blue irises reflecting off of the windshield of the Maserati, the silverware at Sweetie’s, the lights flashing at Eden’s Twilight.

Eden’s Twilight was a popular bachelor party hotspot, at least until midnight. The music was loud, the drinks intoxicating, and the dancefloor a mosh pit of sweaty bodies and loose inhibitions. Some nights Andrew found it easier to breathe there than the bright open storefront, while other nights it made his skin crawl.

There was a particularly raucous table close to theirs, the men clearly having pre-partied beforehand. Andrew swore one of them was Kevin Day, the starting striker for the Palmetto State Foxes; Minyard Clothing Co. had been carrying his fluorescent jersey for long enough for the owners to recognize his tattooed face on sight.

One of the men stood up, easily clearing six feet, a grin clear on his face. “I would like to propose a toast,” he shouted, his words barely slurring, “to my best man, Neil. I don’t know what I would do without you, man.”

The tall man reached into his group, pulling one of them towards him; Andrew was suddenly alert, leaning forward ever-so-slightly on his stool. There was the man from the store, blue eyes crinkling, face crushed into the other man’s chest.

Nicky unfortunately noticed his shift, following his gaze. “Oh, look,” he remarked, raising his glass in the man’s direction. “It’s pretty boy.”

Aaron made a disgruntled noise, heaving himself off of his own stool and disappearing into the crowd. Andrew’s eyes followed the man— _Neil_ —as he sat back down. The man was left alone at his table as the others—all Foxes as well, Andrew assumed, recognizing the tall man as Matt Boyd—left to make their way onto the dance floor.

“You should go talk to him,” Nicky said, taking a pointed sip of his drink. Andrew glared at him. But, as soon as Nicky’s attention found its way to the swirling mass of dancers, Andrew hopped off of his stool and moved through the throngs to Neil’s table.

“You’re Neil Josten?” Andrew asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music. Neil spun around, eyes widening and mouth falling open.

“Andrew?” He said, breathlessly. He nodded, “But how’d you know?”

Andrew shrugged, “We sell merchandise for your team. Nicky wanted us to know who we were representing.” He gestured toward the empty stool next to Neil, “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Neil said, before Andrew even finished the question. Andrew took a seat, content to sit in silence with Neil, simply staring out at the crowd. He noticed Neil was taking sips from a water bottle, instead of the shot glasses that crowded his table.

“Water?” Andrew asked.

Neil shrugged, “I don’t drink.”

“Not even at a bachelor party?”

He chuckled, “Especially not at a bachelor party. Who else is going to make sure they make it home in one piece? Dan would _kill_ me. Dan Wilds, that is.”

“I know who she is,” Andrew said; Neil nodded.

They sat in silence until the next song, an upbeat one that had everyone on the dancefloor jumping up and down; they watched this with distaste.

“So, do you come to Eden’s Twilight often?” Neil asked loudly, though Andrew could barely hear him even then.

Andrew raised a brow, “Are you trying to flirt with me, Josten?”

Neil’s eyes went wide and he shook his head vigorously, “ _No_. I swear. I don’t swing.”

Andrew didn’t feel the disappointment he expected at that, and he just shook his head lightly. “It’s okay,” he said, “I didn’t really think you were.”

Neil still looked worried, but shrugged, “I’ve heard I give the impression of flirting. Allison says it’s because I’m an eleven out of ten, but I think she might be messing with me.”

“I’ve heard Allison Reynolds is knowledgeable in attractiveness.”

“She’s been named the hottest exy player in the country for the past three years.”

“She’s attractive; I just don’t swing her way.”

“Oh.”

Andrew took a swig of his whisky while Neil took a drink of water. Neil met his eyes and shouted, “I think I’ll need to come in again sometime soon.”

“For the wedding?” Andrew asked.

“For the wedding.” Neil agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [read on tumblr](http://lady-gryffindor.tumblr.com/post/142960534303/im-an-assistant-in-this-shop-and-youve-spent-the)


	2. Tattooed Martyrs

Andrew hated restocking. To be fair, none of the co-owners of Minyard Clothing Co. enjoyed it, but Andrew was sure he hated it most of all. It was a mindless task, carrying boxes back and forth during hours he didn’t have to be in the store. Plus, Andrew was five foot even. The shelves were definitely taller than that, which required some dangerous climbing to reach the top.

He’d already been at the store for two hours by the time it opened, letting in chatty customers that he had to convince himself not to murder as soon as they asked him for help. Nicky and Aaron came in late, bearing coffee as an apology and taking up their positions in the store, leaving Andrew to lean against the back wall and sip his coffee in peace.

That was until Neil Josten made an appearance, sporting a bandaged face and sleeves bunched in his hands. His eyes met Andrew’s and Andrew froze; something had happened, something more than an exy game gone wrong. Setting down his coffee on the nearest surface, Andrew strode towards Neil. Neil did nothing to stop him, even as he reached out to take Neil’s upper arm.

Andrew didn’t say anything until he had dragged Neil to the alley outside, through the exit in the back of the office. Neil’s eyes were dull as he watched Andrew carefully fold up his right sleeve, revealing scabbed over cuts at his wrist.

“I thought you didn’t swing,” Andrew remarked dryly.

Neil yanked his arm back, breaking Andrew’s loose hold on him. “That’s not what happened,” Neil spit out, hands balling into fists.

“And that?” Andrew asked, jabbing a finger towards the bandage high on Neil’s cheek. He saw Neil’s jaw clench as Andrew reached for it, but made no move to stop him. The number 4 was written in dark ink on his cheekbone. “What the fuck, Neil?”

Neil wouldn’t meet his eyes. A breath forced its way out, shuddering as he said, “There are things you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Andrew said flatly.

Neil shook his head, “I can’t. They’ll hurt y—they’ll hurt the people I care about. I can’t let that happen.”

Andrew’s fingers wrapped loosely around his neck. “Don’t be a fucking martyr,” he hissed. He knew about the situation with the Moriyamas through the little Neil would tell him about, but he was observant enough; this had to do with the team or with Kevin Day, and Neil couldn’t help himself when it came to putting himself in harm’s way.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Do you want me to do something about Riko Moriyama? He doesn’t scare me.”

Neil shook his head vigorously.

Andrew huffed out a breath, “Well, if you didn’t come here to get _help_ , then why did you come?”

Neil reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper and depositing it into Andrew’s waiting hands. It was an invitation to an exy banquet. “You know how bad I am at this,” Neil said helplessly, pulling his sleeves back over his hands.

Andrew pulled the door open, letting Neil go ahead of him as he read the invitation. Nicky gave him a pointed look when they entered the store again, which Andrew ignored in favor of steering Neil towards the suits he’d unboxed an hour before.

“Any requirements?” Andrew asked, moving the hangers.

“It’s going to be at the Foxhole Court, so Dan wants us in at least one of our colors.”

Andrew curled his lip in disgust at that. Whoever thought orange was a good color for _anything_ was a fool. Still, he pulled a charcoal suit with orange detailing around the cuffs off of the rack and handed it to Neil. On their way to the fitting room, he grabbed a light orange shirt and handed that over as well.

Neil changed quickly, coming to stand before the mirror. Andrew grabbed a tape measure and a handful of pins before walking up behind him. This suit was ill-fitting on Neil, who looked as though he’d lost too much weight since they last saw each other—which had only been the month before when Neil ran in, in search of a suitable outfit for a talk show interview.

Andrew fished the invitation out of his pocket, sighing as he read the date of the banquet to be the next night. “Would it kill you to _not_ procrastinate your suit-buying?” He asked.

Neil grinned sheepishly at him in the mirror, “Sorry.”

Andrew considered his options. He could either work with Neil now, when he was supposed to start unboxing suits for restocking the next morning, or after work. He’d known Neil for just under a year now, and Andrew had Neil over every once, letting him tag along with them to Sweetie’s and Eden’s Twilight.

“Wait here,” Andrew said. He made his way to the office. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished out a spare key to his apartment that Nicky had just recently returned—after losing his own in a drunken escapade with his boyfriend.

Neil hadn’t moved an inch when Andrew returned. He looked shocked when Andrew handed him the key, glancing between it and Andrew’s face for explanation.

“I don’t have time to tailor this suit now. Come by my apartment after work, and I can get it done then.”

Neil looed taken aback for a moment and Andrew waited for him to reply. Neil considered something, face scrunching up as he thought about it. “Kevin wants to run some extra drills with the team, so I won’t get out until 6.”

Andrew nodded, “Just let yourself in. I’ll be running late with all of the boxes we just got in.”

When Neil ducked back into the fitting room, Andrew grabbed a box cutter from the office and went to the storeroom. He didn’t see Neil leave, but the next time he ventured out for a coffee break, Nicky smirked and told him that he and Aaron would be gone for the night.

Andrew wanted to put his fist through the wall.

* * *

Andrew’s apartment was located in a prime location, equidistant from the store and his nighttime haunts. He parked the Maserati out front, noting only one window in his apartment was lit up. He took the stairs two at a time—an impressive feat for someone of his stature—and unlocked the door.

Neil was sitting at his kitchen table, reading a week-old newspaper. His suit was hanging off of the fridge handle, still in its bag. He glanced up when Andrew walked in, dropping his keys onto the counter.

“Hey,” he said, setting the paper down. Andrew hummed in response, unhooking the hanger from the fridge and handing it to Neil. While Neil changed in his bathroom, Andrew got out a bottle of whisky and a glass.

“Want a drink?” he called out; despite Neil’s assurance that he didn’t drink that first night in Columbia, he accepted the drinks that Andrew got for him on more than one occasion. He wasn’t doing it because he was too shy to say no, but rather because he trusted Andrew.

Neil yelled back a yes and Andrew grabbed another glass from the cabinet before shutting it. He wandered out to the den, the bottle in one hand and the two glasses in the other. He set them down on the end table in there. Andrew heard the bathroom door open as he poured whisky into each glass.

He turned and surveyed Neil in the suit again, taking a sip from his glass. He set it down, picking up the tape measure and pin cushion, sliding a pair of glasses onto his face.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Neil said.

“The things you don’t know about me could fill books,” Andrew replied, gesturing for Neil to come closer. They made idle small talk as Andrew measured and re-measured, pinning as he went. He was careful enough to not prick Neil with the points, though he was tempted to when Neil talked for an extended period of time.

By the time Andrew finished with the pants of the suit, and started on the jacket, Neil’s silences between speaking grew longer. He wouldn’t breech the topic of his wrists and the tattoo, so Andrew stopped asking. Their faces were close as Andrew glared at Neil’s collar, pulling Neil closer by it to get a better view of the atrocity. He was still holding it, cursing Nicky’s decision to order such ill-fitting suits, when he felt Neil’s eyes boring into his forehead.

“What?” Andrew asked, raising a brow. When Neil didn’t respond, he glanced up; he realized how close they had gotten, his hands halting at Neil’s neck, and how he was now looking straight into Neil’s eyes. He’d unintentionally dragged Neil down from his annoying three-inches-taller superiority. Andrew watched Neil. Neil watched Andrew.

Andrew could feel the pulse in Neil’s neck jump as he leaned closer still, hesitating before barely brushing Neil’s lips with his own. He looked at Neil, slightly cross-eyed; Neil looked back at him, slightly cross-eyed. He kissed him again, sliding his fingers up Neil’s pale neck to his hair, tugging. A breath tumbled out of Neil and he kissed back, his own chapped lips pressing into Andrew’s deep and slow.

His hand stayed at his sides; Neil had seen Andrew flinch away from touch before, and lash out at one man at Eden’s Twilight for thinking he could run a hand across Andrew’s back, so Neil knew his hands weren’t welcome. Andrew’s were still behind his neck, in his hair. His lips were still unhurried against Neil’s, and Neil was fine with the pace, just as fine as he was when their tongues brushed languidly.

Andrew pulled back after a time; Neil followed him, but stopped himself quickly. Andrew watched his eyes come open, looking at Andrew and looking into Andrew.

“I thought you didn’t swing,” Andrew said, for the second time that day.

Neil’s mouth quirked, “I don’t. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

Andrew looked at him skeptically, “That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”

Neil shook his head, “No, but a peck from a French-Canadian girl is the extent of my experience.”

Andrew’s hands curled into fists and straightened out, and repeated the motions, while he looked at Neil. Neil held his gaze, annoyingly. Andrew sighed, reaching for Neil’s collar again; Neil was still as Andrew smoothed it out where his hands had bunched the fabric up. He reached for a pin, and finished the collar. The sleeves fit well, strangely enough, so Andrew moved around Neil to work on his back.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll have it done by then.”

Neil knew when not to push Andrew, and nodded, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving Andrew alone with his thoughts. Andrew glared at the pin cushion on the end table as though it was the reason his thoughts were in such a disarray. He barely acknowledged Neil when he came out of the bathroom, even as he walked past Andrew to lay the suit on the back of an armchair.

He saw Neil’s hand out of his peripheral vision, sliding something towards him; it was the key.

Andrew looked at him. “You keep it,” he said. Neil’s brow furrowed, but he pocketed it. Andrew didn’t have to say any reasons; that Neil might need a place to lay low, or a place where he felt safe, or a place he might want to come back to—he might want to come back to Andrew—when he needed to. Neil seemed to know.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Andrew’s eyes didn’t stray from where Neil had been standing, though he left the apartment, shutting the door with a soft click on his way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think of this in the comments! It would mean a lot to me, and help me to write the other chapters!


End file.
